


Friends

by delorita, SilverFountains



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: After their return from the New World Riario has lost sight of his purpose and attempts to take his own life. But rather than the Labyrinth it's Nico and Da Vinci who save his life.Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!





	Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchesdelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdelite/gifts).



_I had hated him. No, hate would be too kind a word. Loathed him. Despised the man who had tortured me, mocked me, incarcerated me, threatened to kill me and everyone I held dear._

_That was in a different lifetime. One when the world was still flat and the lands of golden corn still a myth. That was before I watched him kill the only woman he'd ever loved to save the life of his worst enemy. Of course there had been no kindness or compassion in that act. The whole collaboration between Da Vinci and Girolamo had been one of pure necessity and self interest._

_And yet… in those desperate moments of survival beyond all hope I had seen glimpses of a different man behind that cruel mask of the Captain General of the Holy Roman Church. A man who could never love and yet loved deeper than anyone he had ever known.  A soul tortured by terrible secrets and terrible losses. A brilliant mind turned into a horrific weapon by the papal state. A man who would sacrifice everything in his devotion to his cause._

_And truly, were he and Da Vinci that different in that respect?_

“What … day ... is it?”

Nico's eyes flick to the man on the bed, his thoughts ripped from his musings as he'd sat by Girolamo's sick bed for he cannot remember how many days and nights.

“Your Grace!”

“Niccolo.” The count's deep voice is so thin that the words sound barely louder than a breath.

Nico makes to take his hand, but hesitates and then retracts. With the others milling about he's not sure that the pious man will accept such an intimate gesture. “You're awake,” he says awkwardly. “How-how are you feeling?” He knows he should call the maestro and let him know that his patient has awoken, but part of him wants to enjoy just a few more moments with the count before the medic gets all his attention.

“I am… alive…”

Nico's heart pains with the sadness, disappointment and resignation that word is laced with. But then, what did he expect from a man who had sliced open his own veins to let his life blood flow away in the Tiber. Did he truly expect Riario to show gratitude for the fact that he had thwarted that plan?

“Yes,” he swallows. “You're alive. I… I found you… Just in time. Leo-the maestro, he bandaged you up and…” He slowly raises his own arm to show the bandages there. “He gave you my blood,” he bites his lip.

He had argued vehemently with his maestro as Riario drifted in and out of consciousness. Zo had cursed him for “ _risking his own life for_ that monster!” Perhaps it had been folly, but Leonardo had conceded eventually, even as Zo had stormed out of the room with more expletives on his tongue.

Riario snorts at that. “I did not ask… for you to save me.” The words are sharp, but the tone is not.

“Nor did I ask you to save me, on the ship,” Niccolo retorts.

Girolamo looks at him, unwavering, studies him the way Nico had become accustomed to by now. Once he would have dearly loved to claw out those dark penetrating eyes. Now he is grateful that they look back at him still.

“Because it struck me that you wanted to live,” the count eventually says, pulling his gaze away from the young man.

Nico watches that etched face for a few more moments. _He's handsome_ , the idiot thought throbs through his head. _As if his turmoil brings out this melancholic kind of beauty, like some heartbreakingly magnificent piece of art._

“And you do not?” he croaks, “want to live?”

Girolamo returns his gaze and sighs. “It appears that no matter what I want, God will not even grant me this relief. He will not allow me peace and He wishes to see me suffer for my sins for another day.”

Now it is Nico who snorts. “It wasn't God who saved you. It was me.”

The count narrows his eyes. “ _You_ would see me suffer more? I guess I deserve no less after the things I did to you…”

But Nico shakes his head. “Once yes,” he says firmly. “Once I would have seen you suffer, would have _made_ you suffer! But… I didn't save you to torture you. I saved you because…  because you're my friend.”

“Your… friend?” Riario looks at the young blond man as if he's heard that word for the very first time ever. _My friend?_ He frowns, wondering if his dazzled mind still plays tricks on him. “No…” he clears his throat awkwardly, “no one called me friend before…”

“Well,” Nico grins, this time taking the count's hand in his anyway, “you do not get to have a say in that, Your Grace. You are my friend and Leo's also. And sure as day, how could we celebrate Christmas Day without God's own Captain General to show us the right way?” he smirks. “You would not leave me to be mastered by Da Vinci alone and see all your hard work undone so soon?”

Girolamo feels a very rare expression flit very briefly across his features. A smile. Young Niccolo knows him so well. “I do not think _Leo_ cares for the day of Our Lord Jesus’ birth all that much,” the Count tries to take a deep breath after all those words. He’s relieved that breathing is so easy again. And also the extremely rare feeling of hope expands in his chest.

Nico chuckles at that. “Perhaps not, but nonetheless he cares for _you_ being here."

He gets up as he hears the maestro descend the stairs. He makes to walk away, but then quickly changes his mind. In a moment of madness he bends himself down and presses his lips onto Riario's forehead. “Merry Christmas, Your Grace.” Immediately he turns and rushes to the door, not wanting the Count too see his cheeks colour like apples.

Riario does a double take. _A kiss?_ He turns his head quickly to look for Da Vinci’s student but has to lean back since the fast movement makes him dizzy. That smile stays stuck around his mouth though.. “Merry Christmas, mio Angelo,” he mumbles.

As Leonardo Da Vinci greets him with a warm smile and walks up to his bed and begins to measure his vitals he realises that he truly is grateful that these two men, whom he once sought to humiliate and murder, had saved his life.

 _Friends._ A true Christmas miracle indeed.


End file.
